


The ABCs of College

by Ifwecansparkle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Friendship, Gen, autistic headcanon, autistic!marius, headcanon autistic, mentions of autistic!enjolras and autistic!joly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 12:53:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4787936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifwecansparkle/pseuds/Ifwecansparkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marius has a confession for his new roommate. His roommate is less surprised than anticipated. Maybe college won't be as bad as he expected. College AU. Autistic!Marius. Written for The Autistic Exchange 2015.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The ABCs of College

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1848pianist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/gifts).



> This fic was written for The Autistic Exchange 2015
> 
> Trigger Warning for ableism from Marius' grandfather. 
> 
> Note: This is not an alphabet fic. The title is my horrible attempt at a Les Mis pun.

The first thing Marius notices about Courfeyrac is how big he is.  
  
Well, not literally.  
  
Literally, Courfeyrac is all of five foot six, a solid half foot shorter than Marius himself is. But he dominates the tiny dorm room the moment he steps into it.  
  
“This place is the size of a shoebox,” he says, standing in the doorway with a hand truck filled with plastic bins and cardboard boxes trailing behind him. Then he drags it into the room, the left wheel squeaking loudly, and it’s only then that he holds out a hand to Marius.  
  
“The name’s Courfeyrac.”  
  
“Don’t you have a first name?” Marius asks, shaking the hand that is offered to him.  
  
“Yes,” Courfeyrac replies with a grin. “But this one is more interesting.”  
  
“My name’s Marius,” Marius says, when his new roommate releases his hand.  
  
“Don’t you have a last name?”  
  
He thinks Courfeyrac might be teasing, but he stammers out “Pontmercy,” all the same, and then adds, “I hope you don’t mind that I took the bed by the window.”  
  
“No problem,” he assures him, starting to open boxes and unpack them, throwing a pair of sheets in the general direction of his bed.  
  
“So, Marius Pontmercy, what year are you?”  
  
“Oh, Freshman,” Marius says. “You?”  
  
“Sophomore. Which means if you have any questions you can feel free to ask. I promise not to have any answers, but you can ask, anyways,” he laughs heartily at his own joke. “I’m just kidding,” he adds. Marius chuckles.  
  
“Thanks,” he says. He returns to his own fight with his bedsheets, tugging the fitted sheet taut over one corner.  
  
“Do you mind if I put on some music?” Courfeyrac questions, pulling a stereo from another bin.  
  
Marius hesitates. It’s only 10 AM and his nerves are already raw from the packing and the unpacking and meeting his RA, but he doesn’t want to be rude, so he shrugs and says, “sure.”  
  
Courfeyrac has the stereo plugged in by the time he answers, and he asks, “You like Queen?” over one shoulder.  
  
“Sure,” he says again, and hopes that he does.  
  
The music is loud. Courfeyrac’s stereo must be expensive because Marius feels like the room is pulsing in time with the drumbeat. Instantly overwhelmed, he perches on the edge of the bed, the sheet still loose at one corner. Courfeyrac is bobbing in time with the music, humming along to a song Marius has never heard. It isn’t until he has his own sheet stretched dangerously tight around his own twin mattress that he appears to notice Marius again.  
  
“You okay, Buddy?” he says over the music. Again Marius hesitates, and then shakes his head ‘no.’ He reaches for the free corner of his sheet and toys with the elastic bit.  
  
“I have this thing,” he says over the music.  
  
“Huh?” Courfeyrac says, turning the volume down.  
  
Marius’ shoulders relax.  
  
“What kind of thing?” Courfeyrac questions, looking half concerned and half curious.  
  
“Um,” Marius says, suddenly self-conscious about revealing a secret this large to someone he has just met and someone he’ll be living with for the rest of the year. But he realizes that he has come too far to back out now, so he clears his throat and speaks. “I’m very—“ his throat catches on a phrase his grandfather has always used to describe him, but he cannot bring himself to say it. “I mean, I’m not—“  
  
“Are you gay?” Courfeyrac questions. “Because that’s not a problem. I’m bisexual. Very bisexual.”  
  
“I’m—I’m not gay, I don’t think.”  
  
“Okay, then what are you? A vampire?”  
  
“What? No. I’m—um—I’m autistic.”  
  
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac says, and Marius cringes until he realizes he is apologizing for the music, not his neurotype. Courfeyrac reaches to switch off his stereo. “Geeze, I should have—sorry. I’ll use headphones from now on, I promise.”  
  
“Thanks,” Marius says, relieved that Courfeyrac is bypassing the questions and comments he typically receives. “I’m sorry, too,” he adds. “That I’m so—“  
  
“Don’t be,” Courfeyrac answers before he has time to finish with his self-deprecation. “One of my best friends is autistic. “God, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Just. His name is Enjolras. He’s pre-law, when he’s not saving the world.”  
  
“I’m pre-law, too,” Marius says, ignoring the latter half of the comment.  
  
“Great, then you’ll probably meet him. Just look for the impossibly beautiful blond guy who looks like he hasn’t slept in two weeks and you’ll find him.”  
  
“Alright,” Marius says, filing away the description in his mind. It’s instantly encouraging to know that he isn’t the only autistic pre-law student at this university. “I’ll try to find him.”  
  
“If you get to know him he’ll be a big help. He’s got this impossible amount of resources and connection, and a general tendency towards giving advice even when he can’t take it. He’s a little intimidating at first, but once you get to mow him he’ll take a bullet for you.”  
  
Marius feels one eyebrow lift skeptically.  
  
“He’d take a bullet for a lot of people,” Courfeyrac confesses. “It’s just the way he is. Oh, and Joly!” he adds, with barely a pause between the two thoughts.  
  
“Joly?” Marius echoes.  
  
“Autistic Doctor Extraordinaire. Well, not a doctor yet, but he’s going to be. Think of him as the medical side of your resource pool. He’s about the exact opposite of Enjolras, but just as courageous in his own way.”  
  
“How do you mean?”  
  
“That’s his story to tell,” Courfeyrac deflects. “But suffice to say that what he does doesn’t always come easy to him. But he does it anyways, because he believes in it.”  
  
“If he’s going to be a doctor, I doubt I’ll have any classes with him,” Marius reminds Courfeyrac.  
  
“No worries,” Courfeyrac replies. “I’ll introduce you to him at our meetings.”  
  
“Meetings?” Marius questions, wondering if he has missed a memo.  
  
“We’ve got this sort of…” Courfeyrac waves his hands through the air as if trying to latch on to a word, “society,” he finishes at last.  
  
“Like a fraternity?” Marius guesses.  
  
“Sort of, but we’re more socially and politically focused. Call it gentle social anarchism.”  
  
“Can social anarchism be gentle?” Mariu prompts.  
  
“Maybe,” Courfeyrac says with a shrug. “At any rate, it’s run by Enjolras mostly, and if you start to hang out with him you’ll wind up there at least once, trust me.”  
  
“And Joly’s a part of it, too?”  
  
“Yeah, we’re a pretty big group. I mean, all things considered.”  
  
“You may have guessed I’m not much of a group person,” Marius points out, and he doesn’t want to admit that he can’t imagine this mythical autistic best friend, the “impossibly beautiful” one who saves the world after class running a group like the one Courfeyrac is describing, because the thought ricochets in his head in his grandfather’s mocking voice.  
  
“Sure,” Courfeyrac says amiably. “But think about coming along at least once, yeah? You can always duck out early, everyone will understand. But you might like it.”  
  
“What if they don’t like me?”  
  
“I like you,” Courfeyrac points out. “And I’m part of they.”  
  
Marius smiles a little. Courfeyrac’s words silence some of his grandfather’s snide comments, and for the first time he feels a little hope about his college experience. “Alright,” he says. This time they both smile.  
  
“We’ve got a meeting this Friday,” Courfeyrac says. “If you want you can come with me.”  
  
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Marius presses, still afraid Courfeyrac doesn’t understand the issue plaguing his mind as well as he claims to. “You’re sure you want…me?”  
  
“You mean—“ Courfeyrac begins.  
  
“I mean someone like me. My grandfather always said…” he trails off uncertainly.  
  
Courfeyrac must understand now, really understand, because he seems somehow more serious when he says, “We want you. We want people like you. It doesn’t matter what your grandfather says. Screw him. No offense.”  
  
“No, you’re right,” Marius says slowly. “Screw him,” he laughs out loud and his hands flutter as relief floods his body, as he feels a piece of him click into place for the first time, a feeling so unfamiliar that he can’t begin to express it. So instead he just says, “Thank you.”  
  
“Any time,” Courfeyrac says.


End file.
